


The Bowtie On The Card Guy

by SburbanMom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Sexytimes, Voyeurism, casino stuff, offhanded reference to sex trafficking, post zurich, some madeup OCs, theyre cool now i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 12:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SburbanMom/pseuds/SburbanMom
Summary: A couple of old men go gambling together. Gabe is irresponsible with his tentacles. This should be PWP but I care too much for my own good.Secret Santa gift for Kieran (SunGryphon)!





	The Bowtie On The Card Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kieran (SunGryphon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunGryphon/gifts).



“You still any good at acting, Golden Boy?”  


Jack’s father had a gambling problem. Nothing unusual, sure, not in that part of the country, not in those days. Nobody seemed to question his old man’s late night appearances. Certainly not Jack. He’d just listen to his mother grumble something about a couple hundred dollars from his bedroom down the hallway.

 

Since then, though, gambling had become something of a sport- a tenet of high society, a bragging right to those who could afford to waste lavish amounts of money on games of money and silver-trimmed decolletes. Like any sport, of course, its players were subject to… fraternizing.

 

“Trading in two, eh, Hans?” The Man With The Bowl Cut asked slyly, eyes darting over to Gabriel. Gabe nodded. His face was like steel.

 

_You’re slipping, Gabriel._

 

“I’ll take one.” The Woman In Green replied. Her long nails skimmed the Felt. Jack felt it on his skin.

 

As the dealer redistributed, Jack carefully set his cards down, voice travelling into a kind of bored falsetto.

 

“Take my chips, Hans, sweetheart.” He glanced at Gabe with a dramatic flutter of his eyes. Licked his lips for good measure. How _garish._

 

“Mmh. You behave.” He growled back. Jack couldn’t stop the small smile that crossed his lips as he pressed his face against Gabe’s neck. Freezing cold. He could feel the nanobytes vibrate beneath his lips as he kissed in a teasing line up the tendon. Gabe didn’t react, only moved some of his cards around in his hand.

 

“He okay?” The Man With The Tattoo asked, clearly not interested or concerned in the least, steely gaze never wavering from his hand. “Few too many, eh, Hans?”  
  
“He always drinks like this when we go out for a night. I keep telling him to take it easy, but-”   
  
“Hans loves it to bits.” Jack cut in. “It’s like when we were young. Tell them, tell them Hans, about when we’d fuck on the balcony in Montego-”   
  
“Reveal your hands. Beginning with the dealers left.”   
  
“Two pair.” The Lady In Green said with a slight huff of disinterest.

 

“Straight.” The Man With The Bowl Cut spread his cards on the table with an expert swipe.

 

“Zilch.” The Man With The Tattoo.

 

“Straight flush.” The Omnic said. There was no readable expression. Only a slight cock of the head to signify Gabriel’s… _Hans’_ turn.

 

“Nothing.” Gabriel replied, making eye contact with The Man With The Tattoo as he set down his hand- a smear of mismatched red and black shapes against the green felt.

 

“Reshuffle. Zeta takes the pot.”

 

\--

 

Here was the ruse: Jack knew Gabriel all too well, knew every tic. Sometimes, the man was _too_ good. There was something any soldier could tell you- that they remembered every face they’d ever seen die. There was something any terrorist could tell you- that the faces all started to blend together, and soon, you were just killing the same one, over and over again. And you felt nothing anymore. Your metaphorical poker face was the face you wore to weddings and funerals alike.

 

To pull this off, Gabe was going to need to be a little _less_ stoic, and that would require a little intervention from Jack. Not much could get through to the living ghost, but his former and current partner was more than capable. The only caviat was making it believable. Carefully crafted aliases came first- Hans and Shayne Harico. Trust fund babies who had grown up and lived star studded lifestyles together, spending their way across Italian countryside manors and big city condos, never without each other, never without the pitfalls of the rich and famous.

 

And now they sat. The woman in green- Cheryl DuMoore, founder of a prestigious orphanage. The man with the bowl cut- Garrett Andesto, warehousing expert. The man with the tattoo, Henry Vassel- head of the department on Organized Crime for the German police force. And of course, the omnic- Zeta Ben Yonci. The head of the sex trafficking ring they all worked in.

 

And Hans, and Shayne- whose hand was inching its way closer and closer to Gabe’s waistband.

 

“Be _have_.” Gabe warned, and it was Gabe this time, not Hans. A grin shaped Jack’s features as he let his head loll back.

 

“He tells me to behave. Like he wasn’t _just_ recounting that time we-”   
  
“Is this pertinent, Mr. Harico?” Zeta asked. Good. The more he aggravated, the closer they got.

 

“He’s only fooling around. I’ll be sure he keeps his mouth shut.” Hans replied. The cards shifted to one hand, and Jack watched as his now-free hand went to cup his chin. “Right, love?”  
  
Gabe’s eyes twitched. Glanced at his cards, away from Jack for a split second, and a look of hunger appeared in them. Not much. But it was enough for the others at the table.

 

Cheryl looked at her compatriots for a moment. “I fold, then.”  
  
They’d all seen it. The winning hand that Gabriel held.

 

But Jack wasn’t seeing much of anything. He’d shut his eyes to gather the willpower not to groan. That free hand had shifted while the others had contemplated their next move- it sat in his lap, kneaded against his inner thigh, the knuckles ever so slightly teasing at Jack’s cock. Damnit, Gabriel.

 

Hans cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise. “That was fast. I suppose you just want to get away from Shayne and I?”  
  
“Not at all.” Cheryl deadpanned, chuckling. “You’ve proven yourselves to be… excellent assets. Despite your shortcomings, you are both extremely capable- and I’m sure you’ll find that the return on your _investments_ will be quite fruitful.”   
  
“I’m sure.” Hans replied. “I have faith in you. Particularly in you, Zeta.”   
  
“Our business is well-managed.” Zeta chuckled in reply. His hands gently fanned and unfanned his cards a few times. “However, seeing your-”

 

“MNNgh.”

 

All eyes were on Jack, whose cheeks were rosy as he leaned against the table, hands knitted together. Unseen, his tongue was barely caught between his front teeth as he tried to suppress the sound. In the midst of conversation, Gabe’s hand had gotten braver- or, rather, Gabe had retracted his hand, and allowed a thin tendril of smoke to creep beneath Jack’s waistband.  
  
_I swear to God Gabriel, these are my only good pants, if you-_

 

The thought went unfinished. Between the restrictive tightness of his pants and the soothing motions of that thin tendril, Jack was between a rock and a hard place. The irony of the statement was not lost on him.

 

“Shayne?”  
  
“S’just the alcohol. Doesn’t agree with me sometimes. Ulcers!” He laughed, strained. “Oh, but it’s nothing the doctors can’t handle.”   
  
“I had ulcers last year. Dreadful. They took care of them at that clinic in Hamburg for me, I was in and out in a week. I’d suggest it to anyone.” Garrett nodded. “Did you want medicine?”   
  
“I’ll be fine.” Jack chuckled, before gasping again. He couldn’t glare. He couldn’t glare. He couldn’t glare.

 

Gabriel had a smug grin on his face. Watching Jack try not to react in front of their target? Nothing quite like it. The perfect revenge, now that they had them exactly where they wanted them.

 

“I’m better five hundred.” Hans nodded, poker face returning.

 

“I’ll match.” Henry conceded. Garrett did the same.

 

“I’ll raise you. Seven hundred.” Zeta remarked. Gabriel only nodded and paid in- Jack felt the tendril tense around him, and he felt the wind leave his lungs. God fucking damnit, Gabriel.

 

“Alright, reveal your hands.”  
  
The sudden pressure left Jack’s lap, and he almost, _almost_ protested- until he saw the steely look return to Gabriel’s eyes.

 

“Flush.” Garrett said, setting his hand down.

 

“Ditto.” Henry nodded.

 

“Straight flush… again.” Zeta set his hand down. The cards didn’t lie. “I’ll be taking the pot, unless, Hans…?”  
  
There was silence. Jack gave a slight smirk.   
  
“A royal flush.” Came his normal, gruff voice- followed by the sound of his sidearm firing a single electromag bolt into Zeta’s abdomen beneath the table.

 

\--

 

“A decent play.” Gabriel’s voice echoed from the hotel bathroom. Jack laid on the bed, scratching at the remains of expensive aftershave on his neck. God, this stuff smelled like ass.

 

“We probably could have been faster about it if you hadn’t insisted on _playing_ with me like that.”   
  
“Jackie, Jackie. It’s just like Barcelona, though. That time we fucked in an empty subway car?” The toothy, shit-eating grin on Gabe’s face earned him a hotel pen flung at his face.   
  
“Still. Such a mess to clean up. You _know_ I hate cleaning up your messes.”   
  
“Well, you can’t hate it that much.” Gabe chuckled. THe bathroom light seemed to flicker off behind him, leaving them bathed in the lights of the Las Vegas Prime strip from the tall window in their room. “Clearly, since you’re about to make a mess of yourself if I don’t help you.”   
  
“God, I hate you.” Jack growled, but that was disproven quickly as Gabe seemed to materialize over him, to surround him in a black, shifting mist- something met with outstretched arms.

 

“You’re not half bad at acting.” Gabe noted. Tendrils undid Jack’s belt with ease. It worried Jack sometimes how easily Gabe controlled those little things. “I’m surprised.”  
  
“Yeah, well, drama club continues to be the only decent place for a closeted jock to get a decent Friday night makeout.” Jack grumbled, something that turned into a moan as Gabe quickly reminded him of their earlier fooling around.   
  
Lips met cold lips, and Gabe managed to get Jack’s pants around his ankles. Restrained, at least somewhat. Not enough to keep his hands from clawing at Gabe’s amorphous form, but enough to prevent him from accidentally castrating him when Gabe’s hand wrapped around his bare cock and sent a shock of cold up his spine.   
  
“Warn a guy!” Jack managed to seethe before his lips were trapped again. He could only breathe after that. He felt the familiar solidity of Gabe’s body begin to form around him, and suddenly he was no longer mist, but the scarred body of a former lover.   


“Sorry for the wait. I’m exhausted.” Gabe muttered. “Takes a bit longer to reform when I’ve been fighting.”  
  
“S’fine, take your time, but jesus, get something inside of me and fuck me properly. I don’t have all day, and my bedtime was three fucking hours ago.”   
  
“And you complain that I call you old too much.”   
  
Jack laughed at that, still smiling as he moaned at the prodding of one of Gabe’s tendrils against his ass. He wasn’t sure how Gabe managed to slick those things up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 

“By the way, I know you think you’re slick, but you liked it, didn’t you? Getting off in front of all those lowlifes.” Gabe purred. Jack tried not to react as two of the tendrils used him like a hand puppet. He could feel the slight animosity in Gabe’s voice.

 

“You are mine, after all. They looked at me as the head of that relationship. You, you were my bitch. I bought you too much alcohol, sure, I’m sure they thought you’d just be coming back to the room with me for one of our notorious fucks. But what a surprise for them, I don’t like to wait. I’ll use you wherever and whenever I want.”  
  
“Gabe-”   
  
“Shhhh. Just focus on this, and let me speak.” Gabe mumbled, letting a final tendril work its way into Jack’s ass. His reaction was an arched back and weathered hands pulling at the bedsheets. That wicked, toothy grin shone through the dim room above Jack, his only lifeline as he tried to make sense of the swirling darkness above.

 

“Now. Up.”  


Jack didn’t have much say- with the sudden movement of the tendrils seated deep in his ass, plus the movement of Gabe above him, he found himself being pulled up, and over, over towards the tall windows on the side of the room. They were pleasantly warm to the touch- something Jack found out as he was pressed against them.

 

“Come on now, Jack.” Gabe said. The tendrils left him, and he felt empty as Gabe’s hands gently trailed down his sides, dipping in and out of each and every muscle’s outline. “Look at that. The city can see you- they can see _me._ Look even closer.”   
  
Gabe gently pushed in, and Jack stifled a groan. There was a significant difference, and he could feel his body protesting. It was soothing, though, to hear Gabe’s voice, to feel his solid form behind him. More soothing when he began to move, and Jack gasped out.

 

“God, fuck, yes… That really does get you going, huh, Jack?”  
  
“Mmhngh.”   
  
“You can do better than that.”   
  
Suddenly, his slow and kind movements became rough and almost punishing, Jack bracing himself against the window as noises left him with each bottoming out.

 

“Ahn- fuck, GABE!”  
  
“That’s it, there you go. Feels good, huh? And you’re on display to all of Vegas Prime, goldilocks.”   
  
Jack felt the heat building inside of him, unforgiving, unrelenting. He looked out over the cityscape, eyes watering slightly as he struggled to grip the glass with his bare hands. His cock weeped, smearing occasionally on the glass when Gabe thrusted a little too hard. He could see his own debauched reflection staring back at him, cheeks red, mouth wet, muscles taut as he tried to handle what he was given. Behind him, Gabe- not much better off, though his face was pulled into a wicked grin as he plowed Jack.

 

“Ga- Fuck, I’m, GABE!”  
  
As if on cue, Gabe bottomed out in Jack and held fast as Jack saw stars, and anyone looking at the fifty seventh floor saw a pretty unsightly white window stain appear.

 

“Jack-” Gabe groaned, hitting his own climax with a heated rush. His body seemed to frenzy, the nanobytes losing and regaining form within moments of each other.

 

And then, all was still.  
  
“Still as good as ever, Blondie.” Gabe chuckled breathlessly, resting his forehead between Jack’s shoulder blades and holding him close by the hip.   
  
“Damn right.” Jack laughed a little. “Oh, but Gabe-”   
  
“Mmh?”   
  
“Don’t call me Goldilocks.”   


“But your pubes-”  
  
“No. No, we’re not having this discussion again.”   
  
“If you say so.”   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
“...Little Red Riding Hood?”   
  
“I want another divorce.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me AT atlasisreal.tumblr.com or in a very large hole that may or may not exist in the woods behind your childhood home
> 
> the worms there are my buddies. my PALS


End file.
